


[I Can Be] The Pain You Seek

by JinxedAmbitions



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Figging, Friends to Lovers, Jealousy, Light Masochism, M/M, Past Jaskier | Dandelion/Valdo Marx
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:21:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28230822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JinxedAmbitions/pseuds/JinxedAmbitions
Summary: Sometimes Geralt enjoys a bit of pain with his pleasure.  However, he's left high and dry with he usual partner out of the country on business.  The tension only builds as he tries to ignore it, but when things come to a tipping point he isn't expecting Jaskier to be the one to offer to help him out.  He certainly isn't expecting Jaskier to be so damn good at it.Most surprisingly, he isn't expecting to realize he's been pining after Jaskier for ages, and he really doesn't want things to go back to the way they were...at least, not completely.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 13
Kudos: 252





	[I Can Be] The Pain You Seek

Sometimes Geralt needed it to hurt. There was no deeper meaning or desire. Sometimes he needed the coupling of pain with his pleasure, and while he’d analyzed his own desires for years, he’d never come away with a better answer for it than that.

Usually when such a need arose, Geralt sought out Yennefer. She was skilled at knowing exactly how much and what variety. However, she was currently out of the country on business. Being an advisor to diplomats wasn’t the sort of job that left one stagnant very often, so Geralt was shit out of luck.

Rather than get a fix and move on with his life until the next time the need cropped up, Geralt grew tense. He prefered not to seek out one night stands, at least not for this. He went home with plenty of people for just one night, but finding someone to hurt him in just the right ways wasn’t the sort of thing he left to chance. 

Yennefer had tried to get him to us apps or attend events or clubs that specifically catered to his tastes, but Geralt wasn’t interested in being a part of a  _ community _ . He didn’t feel the itch beneath his skin often enough to find a regular partner or feel comfortable around people who were part of a broader "kink community." Yennefer had had to teach him about kink and what it was or could be. Geralt didn't pretend to be hip to those sorts of things.

So, he resolved to get over it on his own until Yennefer was back in the country or the need passed. He certainly wasn't going to branch out now when he'd resisted this long. Not to mention that Yennefer wasn't around to show him the sorts of places that catered to this. It would be his luck he'd be arrested for solicitation if he tried on his own. It wasn’t like he hadn’t gone without before. Frankly, he was quite good at ignoring his needs, and Yennefer was never afraid to tell him that. It suited him though. 

Geralt stretched on the soft covers which had been a gift from his roommate Jaskier after the man had flopped on his bed during some dramatic retelling of a completely ordinary event that had happened to him. He’d been so offended by the scratchiness of Geralt’s sheets that he’d stopped mid-story and abruptly left the apartment for well over an hour before returning with two sets of decadently soft sheets, so Geralt never again had to sleep on  _ the equivalent of a bale of hay _ .

Checking his phone, he got up and pulled on a sweatshirt and a pair of boxers. Jaskier would be wandering about by now, wondering why the coffee hadn’t been made yet. 

When Jaskier had invited himself to live with Geralt, Geralt had been less than thrilled. He preferred his space, and Jaskier preferred to be  _ in  _ his space. Still, he’d always been shit at telling Jaskier no. Actually, he was very good at telling him no, but absolute garbage at following through with it.

So, Jaskier had moved in ages ago and never left despite having gotten his life somewhat together in the time since his arrival, in no small part due to Geralt’s help. 

Geralt scratched his chest as he walked out of the room and down the hall toward the kitchen. He could hear Jaskier in his bedroom, playing some sort of instrument. Geralt had lost track of the various musical instruments that had also moved into his apartment.

The itch for pain didn’t diminish as he was puttering around in the kitchen, grinding the coffee beans and measuring them carelessly. He wished the constant ache in his knee did the trick, but it seemed that his chronic pain wasn’t even good for his need for pain. Talk about the short end of the stick.

“I thought I smelled the nectar of the gods being brewed,” Jaskier’s voice appeared behind him.

“Nothing’s brewing yet,” Geralt growled, trying to rein in his frustrations, since for once they weren’t Jaskier’s fault.

“Nothing but a headache if you keep grinding your teeth. Geesh, Geralt, unclench. It's Saturday.”

“Neither of us have jobs where we have weekends off,” Geralt noted, hoping he managed to take a little heat out of his tone.

“Ah, but I adore my job, so I don’t mind. And you adore being grumpy, so you should be pleased…”

Geralt rolled his eyes heavenward as he poured the water into the machine. Jaskier had bought him three instant coffee makers and a fancy espresso machine in the time they’d lived together, but Geralt refused to deal with anything fancier than his old coffeemaker.

“I was thinking that you could come to my show tonight,” Jaskier said, peeking over Geralt’s shoulder to study his process. Jaskier was notoriously bad at making coffee, hence the need for k-cups and machines more intelligent than some humans.

“I could also get mauled to death by a feral cat,” Geralt remarked.

“You’re being hurtful, but no matter. I know that feral cats happen to love you because they know a kindred spirit when they see it, so you will be perfectly capable of coming to my show tonight.”

“That so?

“It is indeed. Please wear something nice. I can’t have a man covered in horse manure sitting in my reserved section again. I have an image to uphold.”

“Then why are you inviting me?” Geralt asked, turning around and leaning against the counter.

“Because you’re my best friend and you love me?”

“Do you owe someone money?”

“Geralt!”

Geralt gave him a flat look.

“Fine, if you must know, Valdo is in town.”

“What does that have to do with me?” Geralt knew their history and rivalry, but he tried very hard not to become involved in it. In fact, he told Jaskier up front that he didn’t want to be involved. 

“Please, just come.”

“I will not suffer your ex sober.”

“I would never ask you to.”

“Mm.”

* * *

Geralt had known this was a mistake from the start, but he still found himself sitting in the cordoned off VIP section for Jaskier’s show that night. He’d come from work, so he was wearing his work polo and black work pants. He doubted anyone would notice him or his lack of fancy dress, and none of them would be close enough to smell the animal stink that clung to him. Jaskier would, but he enjoyed prodding Geralt about his limited wardrobe and the fragrance of his job. At least, he hadn’t been pissed on by a frightened animal today. 

The VIP section was on the balcony, and its only redeeming feature was the waitress who would elbow her way back and forth from the bar for him. She was used to his presence by now, and she knew his order without having to ask. A simple hand gesture was all it took to get another round, and they both preferred it to having to shout over the sound system.

Valdo was seated at the other table in the section with his entourage. There were a few women who seemed more interested in being seen with Valdo than in his actual company. Geralt didn’t blame them. He never wanted to be noticed, but it would certainly be the preferable choice rather than having to listen to Valdo Marx go on about himself...and that was all Valdo ever went on about. 

Geralt motioned to the waitress for another drink as Valdo made his way over to him. He’d taken his sweet time about it. Jaskier had already finished his set, and the downstairs was almost empty. Not that Geralt wanted the pompous blowhard’s company. Jaskier would be beside himself though, which was probably why Valdo was approaching before Jaskier showed up.

“I see that the guard dog is still begging for scraps at his heels,” Valdo said by way of greeting.

“Mm.” 

Geralt had spoken a whole twenty words to the man in the dozen years he’d known him. He hadn’t pretended to tolerate him when Jaskier had briefly dated him—though dated was a strong term for what they shared—and he hadn’t changed his approach since. The only time he had actually wasted words on the man was to threaten to murder him, grind up, and feed him to the animals at the shelter if he hurt Jaskier. That was before he’d dumped Jaskier abruptly. Geralt had only refrained from following through because the pig seemed to have a belly ache at the time. 

“Still communicating through grunts. How unsurprising,” Valdo said, trying for disdain, but Geralt ignored him as he took a seat at the same table as Geralt. 

There was no point in responding to the man. It would only encourage him to speak more which would inevitably lead back to talking about himself. That was something Geralt looked to avoid at all cost. 

“I suppose you aren’t the only one who hasn’t changed at all. Jaskier still insists on playing at this pathetic venue despite his success. I’ve been telling him for years that he has to get over his fear of success. One has to branch out in order to advance in life. Take for instance myself…”

Before Valdo could say anything else, Jaskier came bounding up the stairs like an over-eager puppy. Geralt rolled his eyes as Valdo’s mouth snapped shut on whatever gem of wisdom he had been about to impart. 

“Darling, you’re still covered in stage soup.”

Geralt tried not to gag at the term Valdo used to describe the sweaty mess Jaskier was by the end of his performance. It was no wonder the man’s songs lacked any lyrical genius when the best term he could come up with for the glistening, panting, wild eyed, and effervescent look Jaskier had after performing was “stage soup.” If the man actually had a personality, Geralt would have written it off as performer humor, but the man had the personality of a singing greeting card that doesn’t stop until the battery dies.

“Oh, I suppose I am,” Jaskier said, pulling his shirt away from his chest and glancing down at the damp fabric. It also gave anyone close enough a good view of his chest which was covered in sweaty hair. 

Geralt looked away, frowning down at the stragglers below who pointed up at them, some aiming cameras to get one last shot before they left. He realized that he was in a worse mood than usual, even given the presence of Valdo. It only irritated him more that heading over to Yennefer’s was out of the question. 

“...good to see you. What’s it been? Nine months?” Jaskier fawned over Valdo as was expected.

Geralt gritted his teeth.

“Unfortunately, I don’t get to pass through as often as I’d like. Albums don’t produce themselves.”

Jaskier made the proper noises as Geralt didn’t even bother to cover his snort. The man had pretty much dialed in his last three albums which Geralt had been forced to listen to because Jaskier didn’t believe in headphones or volume control. Geralt wanted his money back, and he hadn’t even paid for those albums.

“Don’t I know it,” Jaskier commiserated.

“Oh, have you been working on new material? You haven’t had a new album in what...four years?” Valdo retorted.

“Not everyone feels the need to fleece their fans with garbage filler albums,” Geralt muttered mostly to himself.

Both Jaskier and Valdo looked at him like they just remembered he was there.

“The work polo?” Jaskier sighed, sounding devastated by the state of Geralt’s wardrobe.

“Would you rather I come naked?” Geralt retorted.

Jaskier gave him a saucy look, but Valdo gagged on the champagne he was sipping.

“Darling, I hate to mention it, but you were a bit flat on the encore,” Valdo dragged attention back to himself.

Geralt faded back into the background as Jaskier scoffed and began to share barbs with Valdo. He sat there as they went back and forth, bantering about the old days as well as throwing insults at each other’s recent work.

When they began making out in the empty lounge, Geralt saw himself out. He stopped at the bar to tip Sandra, the waitress. Jaskier would pick up the tab as he always did. 

Geralt’s whole body itched as he stepped out into the cold air. The days-old snow was looking gray and dirty as he walked to his truck. It seemed to match his current mood. 

Checking his phone, he wondered if Yennefer would answer if he called. Maybe if she told him something filthy, he might feel less likely to put his fist through the wall to just feel the burn in his knuckles. Instead, he put his phone away and drove back to their apartment. Hopefully, Jaskier would go back to Valdo’s hotel room. He couldn’t really imagine Valdo wanting to step foot into their modest apartment building.

However, Geralt hadn’t been home more than an hour when he heard the front door bang open, followed by the unmistakable sound of two people tripping over each other as they tried to make it to Jaskier’s bedroom without breaking apart. It was a sound Geralt had become quite familiar with since Jaskier moved in. 

Geralt was glad that he’d shut his door. Jaskier had a bad habit of not closing his own, and their rooms were directly across from each other. Geralt had inadvertently seen more than his fair share of Jaskier’s sex life.

However, the door did little to minimize the sound. Valdo’s exaggerated moans easily filtered through the walls, and Geralt gritted his teeth. He had been about to masturbate before they arrived, but now he was too irritated to get hard. 

“Someone should smother him for the good of humanity,” Geralt grumbled, picking up the book on his nightstand and opening to the page he’d left off on. He tried to ignore the much softer grunts and groans that he’d come to recognize as Jaskier’s. He didn’t begrudge him his pleasure, even if he would prefer to punch Valdo than do anything else with him.

Geralt finished several chapters as the pair seemed to go endlessly. Geralt had a headache from all the ridiculous sounds Valdo was making, and he didn’t even have to be in the same room as him. He wasn’t sure how Jaskier could take it. 

Eventually, Geralt dozed off with the book on his chest.

When Geralt woke, he felt even more on edge than when he’d fallen asleep. His morning wood was persistent as he dropped the book back onto the nightstand and shoved his hand beneath the covers. However, no sooner had he wrapped his fingers around his cock than he heard another fake moan drift through the wall.

“What the hell are they on that they are still fucking?” he growled, pulling his hand back and fisting it in the sheets instead. 

His cock didn’t take long to soften after Valdo really got going. Geralt was pretty sure he was going to chip a tooth if he had to listen to this for much longer. Jaskier’s more subdued sounds of pleasure just made it worse. How could the man muster genuine pleasure when fucking that hack? 

With his nerves in tatters, Geralt got out of bed and tugged on a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie. Coffee wouldn’t solve his problems, but at least it would distract him momentarily.

Geralt opened his door only to get an eyeful of Valdo pulling out of Jaskier, who was on all fours on the bed. Geralt tried not to stare as Valdo pulled off the condom and dropped it directly on the floor before wiping his palm on the sheets like bodily fluids were beneath him.

“A fine performance as always, Darling,” Valdo said, smacking Jaskier’s ass.

Geralt almost walked in and punched him just for the satisfaction of it, but he restrained himself. This wasn’t any of his business, even if they did leave the door wide open. 

Walking to the bathroom, Geralt clenched his fists that a creep like Valdo got to get relief, but he was still ready to tear his own arm off to get a bit of pain. 

Geralt pissed and got into the shower, hoping that they’d be asleep by the time he was finished. The sound of the running water blocked out the rest of the apartment, and Geralt tried to enjoy it. His hand itched to touch himself and relieve the frustration of the last days. It crept closer to his semi-hard cock, and he let the anticipation build just a little. The cascade of water relieved some of the tension he was carrying, and he flexed his muscles and rolled his shoulders. If he could only stay like this until Yen returned...

“Oh Geralt, didn’t realize you were in here,” Valdo’s voice cut through Geralt’s peace, and Geralt’s whole body went tense. 

Looking over his shoulder, he could see Valdo’s outline through the curtain. The fact that the lock on the door didn’t work had never been a problem before. Jaskier walked in on him showering all the time and visa versa. It wasn’t a problem for them, but Valdo was another story. He was vaguely glad that he’d insisted on the opaque curtains rather than the glass Jaskier had wanted. He’d thankfully won that argument when he’d brought up that neither of them wanted to make eye contact when one of them inevitably needed to shit while the other was showering.

“You don’t mind if I piss, do you?” Valdo didn’t wait for a response before Geralt could hear him pissing.

Geralt gritted his teeth as he restrained himself from reaching through the curtain and strangling the man once and for all. Forget chopping him up. Geralt would happily admit to it. They’d probably give him an award for it. 

“I hope we didn’t keep you up. Jaskier is insatiable.”

Geralt rolled his eyes. Clearly, he meant that Jaskier couldn’t get enough of  _ him _ .

“Well, I have an important meeting. Must be off. Tell Jaskier I’ll let him know when I’m back in town.”

Geralt grunted, not at all surprised by the man’s abrupt exit, or his need to proclaim he had an important meeting. However, he was surprised when Valdo flushed the toilet and the water went blazing hot in the shower for a moment.

Valdo was lucky he was fast because Geralt’s arm just missed grabbing him as he darted out of the room.

“Fuck.”

Geralt finished his shower in a bitter mood just because of the man’s presence. When he finished he pulled on a clean pair of boxers and a soft hoodie. 

Assuming that Jaskier would be asleep for the foreseeable future, Geralt made sure that he kept quiet as he made his way to the kitchen. He was immediately met with an empty cupboard and a sink full of dishes Jaskier had promised to put in the dishwasher before he left the house yesterday. 

Geralt ground his teeth as he slowly rinsed the abundance of dishes and mugs then transferred them to the dishwasher. When that was done, he set about grinding the coffee and dumping it into the coffeemaker. 

The coffee wasn’t running for more than a minute when Jaskier walked into the kitchen wearing his teal colored satin robe which went down to his mid-thigh. His hair was a nest, and his hairy chest threatened to make an appearance with how loosely the sash was tied.

Jaskier yawned as he walked into the room, and Geralt tried not to snap at him for forgetting the dishes. It wasn’t the end of the world, just the end of Geralt’s patience...and frankly it wasn’t Jaskier’s fault Geralt was horny and mad about it.

“Sorry, I barely got to speak to you last night. How did you like the set?” Jaskier said, patting Geralt on the shoulder as he walked past him to the fridge.

“The new song was good.”

“I thought it was a little flat,” Jaskier said casually.

Geralt balled his fist. “Don’t listen to his bullshit.”

“I know you hate his guts, but Valdo knows music.”

“And he also knows exactly what to say to wind you up,” Geralt snapped.

"That's part of the fun."

"Sounds crappy to me."

“Oh excuse me, I didn’t realize I was living with a shrink. Care to tell me my business some more?” Jaskier asked, placing his hands on his hips.

Geralt growled. Yennefer had made the same accusation before, and it had made him bristle then, but having Jaskier do it when Geralt knew Valdo was just being a dick...it was too much.

“Believe whatever you like, but don’t ask me to be your fucking chaperone next time.”

“What crawled up your ass today? I know you and Valdo don’t get along, but if you have a problem with who I fuck, either tell me or grow up.”

“I don’t care who you fuck, but I’d rather not hear their fake moans all night!”

Jaskier gasped. “Are you saying I don’t know how to pleasure—”

“I’m saying that Valdo fucking Marx never saw an opportunity to be the center of attention that he was willing to pass up even if that meant faking it for everyone in the apartment complex.”

“You asshole,” Jaskier punched him in the shoulder and stormed out of the kitchen before storming back in. “My partners do not  _ fake it _ . Just because you wouldn’t know ecstacy if it bit you in the ass, doesn’t mean that others are incapable of experiencing it.”

Geralt grunted, not really willing to fight about it. Valdo’s theatrics had nothing to do with Jaskier’s prowess in bed, but he wasn’t articulate enough to explain that to Jaskier without further fucking it up.

“And another thing!” Jaskier waved his finger in front of him. “Your work polo? I thought I asked you to look presentable.”

Geralt stared at him, blinking slowly. “I went from work.”

“Which means you were probably covered in animal piss and slobber which, don’t get me wrong, you can certainly pull off, but I asked you to look nice.”

“What difference does it make?” Geralt crossed his arms. It has never actually mattered to him before.

“You’re the only person I invite to the VIP section.”

“So?”

“So, when my only guest shows up looking like he rolls in the mud with the pigs, it makes me look bad!”

“I do roll in the mud when the job calls for it. I do get shit and pissed on, and I always smell like whatever animals I work with that day. If you don’t like it, don’t demand I go to you shows.”

“ _ Whatever _ ,” Jaskier said dismissively.

Geralt felt his gut twist. Jaskier always picked at his wardrobe, but he’d never acted embarrassed by him before, and Geralt didn’t like how it made him feel. He tried to write it off as his already frayed nerves, but it cut deeper than he wanted to admit.

The way Jaskier just moved on to the next thing didn’t help either. 

“Why aren’t there any mugs?” Jaskier asked, opening the cabinet beside where Geralt leaned.

“You didn’t load the dishwasher.”

Jaskier sighed dramatically like he wasn’t entirely responsible for his own predicament.

Geralt gripped the counter as Jaskier placed his hand on the small of his back as he reached up into the cabinet for a mug way at the back of the cabinet. He pressed in close to Geralt as his hand groped for the ceramic handle, and Geralt gritted his teeth at the contact. He didn't know why it was making him bristle. He was used to Jaskier's touch, enjoyed it even.

“Move,” Geralt grunted, checking Jaskier out of the way with his hip as he reached to get the mug for Jaskier.

However, Jaskier had already gotten a finger on it, and as he was knocked aside, the mug dropped out of the cabinet and onto the counter before smashing on the floor.

They both blinked at the mess between them for a moment.

“What the fuck, Geralt?” 

Geralt growled and banged his fist on the counter, trying to rein in his frustration. However, after days of build up, it refused to be tamped down. 

“Why are you growling at me, you oaf? You shoved me with those massive muscles of yours, not the other way around,” Jaskier snapped, placing his hands on his hips. His colorful robe didn't make him easy to take seriously, especially with its flowy satin sleeves or his mostly bare legs. 

Geralt didn’t answer, which he knew would only infuriate Jaskier more. Instead, he dropped to his knees to pick the pieces up. He barely noticed the flare of pain as a rogue shard cut into his knee. 

“No, don’t...here, I’ll get the broom,” Jaskier said, rushing away on nimble feet to avoid the same fate as Geralt’s knee. His robe flowed behind him in a wave of turquoise.

Geralt ignored his protests and began to pick up the pieces. He wasn’t as careful as he could have been. The slice of the poorly handled shards eased some of the tension in him. He was angry at himself for being careless, and he was even more angry that he didn’t have a better handle on his temper.

By the time Jaskier returned with a broom—which Geralt did not recognize and suspected actually belonged to a neighbor—Geralt’s hands were already nicked to bits.

“No, stop that! I told you to wait. Look at you,” Jaskier fussed, batting Geralt’s shoulder with the broom until he put the pieces down and let Jaskier sweep them into a neat pile. When he was done he grabbed Geralt by the wrist before he could retreat. “Let’s take a look at that.”

Geralt growled, but as usual his dower attitude did little to deter Jaskier.

“Come,” Jaskier commanded, pulling Geralt out of the kitchen and down the hall to the too small bathroom they shared. “Sit.” He flipped the toilet lid down with his foot while he turned to open the medicine cabinet.

Geralt was too surprised to snap at him. He sat without much fuss and just watched Jaskier pull down cotton rounds and alcohol because neither of them knew or cared enough about first aid to invest in anything more sophisticated. 

Jaskier's hands were gentle as he took Geralt's in his own, turning them over to check the damage.

“Shit, I think you’ve got a sliver in there. Let me just…”

Geralt wasn’t prepared for Jaskier to dig his nail into his palm to fish out the sliver, and he wasn’t prepared for the punch of pleasure the zinging pain sent right to his gut. A groan slipped free of its own accord.

“Sorry, sorry. I’ll be more gentle…”

“No, don’t.”

Jaskier looked up at him, giving him a confused look. However, one good look at Geralt, and Jaskier didn’t seem so confused anymore. “You okay, Geralt?”

“Mm.”

“You look a bit…”

“Are you going to just sit there holding my hand, or are you getting the fucking sliv—”

Jaskier dug his nail back in, clearly to be an ass, but the shock of it made Geralt moan.

“I knew it! You’re enjoying this, like  _ really  _ enjoying this. Geralt I never knew you to be so kinky, not that a little pain is super kinky, but you just seem quite...vanilla,” Jaskier said, stroking his palm now with soothing motions.

“Are you done?” Geralt growled, not even bothering to hold back his anger and frustration.

“No, I thought we shared things with each other. I told you about getting my nipples pierced for a lover...and the time I let that lady stick a piece of ginger in my bottom...and—”

“Have I once asked to hear about your bizarre sex life?”

Jaskier gasped, but this should not have come as a surprise because Geralt generally told him that he didn’t wanted to hear about his bizarre sex life in those exact words even if he never actually stopped him from telling his stories. Still Jaskier had never met an opportunity to be dramatic that he did not use to its fullest potential. 

Geralt pulled his hand away and doused it in alcohol. He didn’t even grit his teeth as it burned. He needed to get out of here before he did something stupid like ask his best friend and long-time roommate to hurt him. 

“Where are you going?” Jaskier tried to block his path which would have been effective for an ordinary person given Jaskier’s size, but Geralt had enough muscle to easily move him if he wanted.

However, Geralt didn’t have it in himself to shove Jaskier out of the way. His mind still played the incident in the kitchen over. 

Clearly, Jaskier could read his hesitation as easily as he read everything else about Geralt. He held his hands up slowly. “Look, it’s not like we haven't had sex before.”

Geralt raised an eyebrow.

“Okay, maybe not with  _ each other _ , but you’ve seen me with partners and visa versa.”

“Walking in on each other is not the same as having sex with each other.”

“Well, no, but I mean...I wasn’t completely repulsed seeing you... _ you know _ ...were you?” Jaskier began to trip over his words which was a surefire sign that he was unsure. Nerves didn’t make him stumble. The man had never met a situation he wasn’t happy to make worse. However, uncertainty picked at his gut relentlessly, and it was the only time his words weren’t perfectly smooth. It was the only time Geralt felt like maybe he wasn’t completely out of his league with Jaskier’s silver tongue.

It would be so easy to lie and tell him he’d been repulsed by walking in on him with far more partners than was really acceptable—Jaskier often forgot to close the door, much as he had the night before. However, Geralt had caused his share of hurt with careless words over the years, and he’d been trying to do less of that.

“Not repulsed...but—”

Jaskier’s uncertainty disappeared, and he glowed as he cut Geralt off. “See! Don’t think I haven’t noticed your extreme grumpiness since Yennefer left. I just didn’t realize what it was about, but…”

“Jaskier.”

“Hmm?”

“Shut up and hurt me or leave me alone,” Geralt growled, having no patience to listen to Jaskier sleuth his way to the truth like a dime-store Sherlock Holmes. Letting Jaskier have this was easier than being horny  _ and  _ having a Jaskier-induced headache.

Jaskier's eyes widened, but his grin didn’t diminish in the slightest. “It would be my pleasure. How would you like…”

Geralt sighed heavily, already regretting this. Aspirin and porn existed, but there was no cure for fucking your best friend.

“Right, surprise you. Well then, I think that we should retreat to my room—”

“Not fucking you on the sheets you fucked him on.” It had nothing to do with jealousy or Valdo himself. He'd watched Valdo wipe his hand on them, and that was gross. This wasn't a frat house.

Jaskier looked a bit sheepish at that, but nodded. “Right, definitely a reasonable request. Well, why don’t you go to your room, and I’ll just be a moment gathering a few things…”

Geralt didn’t say anything as he pushed past Jaskier, but Jaskier caught him by the sleeve of his sweatshirt. “Geralt?”

“Mm.”

“This won’t change anything, right? I’m sorry about what I said about your clothes. You’ll still be my best friend?”

“If walking in on you fucking several dozen people hasn’t made me reconsider, I don’t see how this would,” Geralt said.

“Right, but can I get a promise?”

Geralt stopped and turned around again. He wanted to snap at him. Jaskier always did this, pushed to the breaking point then realized the consequences just a moment too late, but that was who he was, and Geralt had come to terms with it years ago.

“I promise.”

“Well, that’s a relief.”

Geralt rolled his eyes as he walked to his room. He wasn’t expecting to have to wait long. Yennefer rarely used more than one toy on him if any. Her teeth and nails were often enough. So, he really couldn’t imagine what might take Jaskier more than a minute to grab. 

However, Geralt pulled his sweatshirt off and folded it neatly. He picked up last night’s clothes and placed them in the hamper, and Jaskier still wasn’t there. He considered taking off his boxers, but he didn’t really want to be sitting in his room naked waiting for Jaskier. Boxers were still pretty normal attire around the apartment. If this fell through, then at least he still had those on even if Jaskier had seen him completely naked plenty of times.

When Jaskier still wasn’t back after five minutes, Geralt considered just shutting his door and jerking off. The only thing stopping him was the fact that Jaskier had never actually let him down before. Maybe he was returning the broom or taking a leak.

When Jaskier did flounce into the room some time later, he carried only a small box. Geralt raised an eyebrow at the anticlimax. He’d half expected him to show up with a massive paddle or a length of razor ribbon. 

Jaskier didn’t even pause as he walked over to Geralt’s bed. “Okay, so it’s not much, but your knee is bothering you today, so I don’t want to put stress on it, and a few of my toys would definitely not be knee friendly…” Jaskier continued to ramble as he moved several items on the nightstand, making room there by placing Geralt’s phone and books in the drawer. 

Usually, it annoyed Geralt when people touched or rearranged his things, but it never grated when Jaskier did it. He didn’t even try to dig into how Jaskier knew his leg was bothering him. He wasn’t wearing his brace, and he was pretty sure he hadn’t been limping. He let it go as Jaskier made a satisfied noise, turning to Geralt with his arms spread.

“No peeking. It’s a surprise.”

Geralt shook his head. 

“Mm.”

Jaskier scoffed, using the same sound he always did when Geralt clearly didn’t appreciate his genius. “Right, well come here. No point standing across the room like a blushing virgin.”

Geralt grunted.

“Yes, I know, you are categorically incapable of blushing.” Jaskier said it with a smile that eased some of the tension in Geralt. 

Geralt shook his head, but he crossed over to Jaskier, and gave Jaskier a once over. He’d traded in the robe for flannel pajama bottoms and one of Geralt’s old t-shirts. Geralt had long ago given up trying to prevent Jaskier from stealing his clothes. He always had some long-winded excuse, and the time lost listening to Jaskier’s reasoning wasn’t worth the minor inconvenience of losing a threadbare shirt. 

Jaskier didn’t hesitate to pull his shirt over his head to reveal his firm chest, covered in thick hair. Then he reached down but paused as he pulled the drawstring to his bottoms loose. 

“Not wearing anything beneath, so lose ‘em together?” he asked, giving Geralt that charming smile that had been the downfall of many otherwise reasonable people.

“Mm.” Geralt didn’t wait for him to start counting. He shoved his boxers down, and Jaskier followed his lead. It was odd standing in front of Jaskier in this context, but he shrugged it off and pulled Jaskier to him, capturing his lips in a heated kiss. He didn’t pause to let Jaskier adjust, pressing his tongue to the seam of his lips almost immediately.

Jaskier didn’t take long to catch on, and he opened up to Geralt. He wrapped his arms around Geralt’s back and scored his nails down his muscled shoulders. His nails were blunt and short, but it was enough to pique Geralt’s interest. 

Geralt hummed as Jaskier did it again, and it gave Jaskier the opportunity to nip and worry Geralt’s bottom lip. He didn’t linger long, biting his way across Geralt’s jaw until he reached his throat where he sank his teeth into the thick muscle that connected his neck and shoulder. Geralt was weak for the way it made his body hum.

Jaskier didn’t let up. He sucked a bruise into Geralt’s skin between sharp bites that left Geralt shaking. Perhaps this hadn’t been the worst outcome.

“Anything you aren’t okay with?”

“Like what?” Geralt asked, glancing over at the box on his nightstand. He imagined it full of razor blades and lemon juice.

Jaskier pulled back a little and looked a bit sheepish. “Figging?”

Geralt gave him what he could only imagine was a confused look. He wasn’t entirely aware of the names for different things, and even with Yennefer, sometimes it caught him off guard.

“It’s what you call what I let the lady with the ginger do.”

Geralt’s nostrils flared.

“Before you overthink it, it’s definitely painful, but it’s low impact, so you won’t be out of commission for days. I’ve seen you after some nights with Yennefer, and it isn’t pretty.”

Jaskier wasn’t wrong. Part of why he didn’t do it very often was how high his pain tolerance was and how that left him the next day or days. 

“What’s it like?” Geralt asked, dropping down onto the bed and making room for Jaskier to rest beside him.

“So, relaxing enough to get it inside was the hardest part for me. Once it’s in, it’s like a regular plug...have you—”

“I’ve worn plugs before,” Geralt cut in before Jaskier could come up with a colorful if roundabout way of asking.

“Okay, great. It’s like wearing a plug, but it’ll start by feeling a bit warm then it will start to hurt or burn. If you squeeze down on it, it usually makes it worse...I uh...learned that the hard way.”

Geralt smiled. 

“But it also gives you a little bit of control. If you want more, you can get it.”

“And if I want less?” 

Jaskier bit his lip. “I’ll remove it...but the burn won’t go away immediately...so you have to trust me that I’m not completely misjudging your tolerance and what you’re looking for.”

“I trust you.”

Jaskier seemed a little surprised by Geralt’s immediate reply, but he gave him a genuine smile. “I want you to know that I am not into pain at all, but I did actually enjoy it even if I sobbed the entire time.”

Geralt chuckled. He pulled Jaskier with him as he rolled onto his back, leaving Jaskier resting on his chest. They were both hard, and Geralt took full advantage of the position to create friction between them. 

Jaskier moaned, but he quickly found Geralt’s neck again, sucking a matching bruise onto the other side. Geralt didn’t stop him. It was low enough to hide, and the people he interacted with in his line of work weren’t exactly scrutinizing his appearance other than the fact that he was intimidating.

“You used to assplay?”

Geralt grunted at Jaskier’s lack of finesse. “Yeah.”

“You against pleasure before your—”

“Do what you like. I’ll let you know if I hate it.”

“Right, ever practical.” There was a tease in his tone, the same one that cropped up when Geralt was being cantankerous as Jaskier put it. Jaskier always had the edge of possibly laughing at Geralt but with affection. From anyone else, it would make Geralt seethe, but Jaskier was always the exception to the rule.

“Just stop asking.”

Jaskier made a disgruntled noise and propped himself up on Geralt’s chest to glare down at Geralt, but he was too close, so he went a bit cross-eyed to do it. It made the threat lose some of its impact. Still he was undeterred.

“Listen here. I’m not the one who body checked their roommate into oblivion this morning because I was horny and cranky. I’m not looking to get punched just because I offered to help you out.”

Geralt closed his eyes, remembering that it had taken a long time to let Yen in. This was the reason that he didn’t like seeking out new partners to scratch this itch, but it was Jaskier. Even if he completely botched it, they’d laugh about it and get drunk and waste the rest of the day away on bad movies or Jaskier's newest music.

“I trust you,” Geralt said again. He had never been good with asking for what he needed. He just hoped Jaskier’s magical ability to know him without explanation carried over into the bedroom.

“Fine, you cantankerous oaf. I will simply woo you with my brilliant sexual prowess.”

“I hope that doesn’t include running commentary.”

“I’m not even going to feel sympathy when you’re moaning in agony.”

“Wouldn’t want you to.”

Jaskier huffed, shaking his head. He didn’t let it hold him back as he kissed his way down Geralt’s chest. He scratched his nails through the hair there, but not roughly enough to hurt. It was a tease to build anticipation, and it worked.

Geralt bit his lip, watching Jaskier work his way across his pec until he latched onto his right nipple, worrying it with his teeth just hard enough to hurt. He pinched the other between his fingers. Geralt rolled his hips, groaning as their cocks shifted against each other.

“I’m going to ride you so hard while you’re out of your mind with it,” Jaskier promised, reaching between them to give them both a firm stroke.

“Fuck.”

“Precisely.” Jaskier’s tongue-in-cheek response was on brand and equally awful.

“Are you against gags?”

“Ha ha.” Jaskier didn’t seem at all insulted as he tweaked Geralt’s nipple again. 

Geralt wasn’t really used to his partners being playful, and he just assumed that Jaskier was acting this way because he wanted Geralt to know nothing was going to change between them. He was just helping out his friend. Geralt couldn’t really explain his own playfulness because he’d never been playful in bed.

“Spread your legs a bit,” Jaskier ordered, before kneeling between them. He kissed Geralt’s stomach, making Geralt’s back arch as he felt his spine tingle. “Lovely.”

Geralt growled, but it became a groan as Jaskier nipped at his hip bone. 

Jaskier trailed kisses over Geral’s hip and down his thigh, leaving Geralt feeling pleasantly warm. He wanted more. Jaskier’s kisses were a nice distraction from the tension beneath his skin. He didn’t want him to stop, but he needed more. He needed pain to take the edge off. Jaskier seemed to understand as he bit the inside of Geralt’s thigh. The pain was fast and sharp, but the buzz of it lingered. 

Geralt watched as Jaskier opened the box just enough to remove a small bottle of lubricant. He didn’t ask Geralt if he was ready before slicking one of his fingers and circling it around Geralt’s rim. He pressed his finger in with little preamble, stretching Geralt deliciously.

Jaskier’s lips never left his belly and thighs as he opened Geralt up. He was gentle, helping Geralt relax into it rather than wind him up before either of them were ready for it. 

Geralt opened for him. His body did little to resist Jaskier’s sure touch, and Geralt himself basked in each movement of Jaskier’s fingers. He was surprised when Jaskier pulled back and opened the box completely.

When Geralt saw the neatly whittled ginger root, his breath hitched. The thought of it going inside of him was strange and not entirely arousing. Geralt had never really been one for toys beyond the basics, and more often than not he just used his hands. A few fingers did the trick when he wanted penetration. So, the thick piece of ginger was odd to him, though he assumed it would have been odd even if he had a toy collection to rival Yen’s. 

“It’s safe?” Geralt asked because he really wasn’t sure what he was thinking, but that seemed a reasonable ask.

“Yeah, not as worry free as a silicone plug, but not as risky as a glass one.”

“Mm.” 

“I made sure it’s thick enough to be safe…”

“Can I see it?”

“Of course.” Jaskier plucked it out of the box and held it out to Geralt by the unshaved portion on the one end. 

Geralt took it and studied it. He cooked most nights, but he rarely used fresh ginger in his dishes. He was frankly a little surprised they had any. Holding it back out to Jaskier, Geralt laid back and let his legs fall open. However, Jaskier gave his thigh a gentle pat.

“Not like that. Want you on your belly,” Jaskier said, getting up and moving to the side of the bed to allow Geralt to roll over.

Geralt followed the request, and he accepted his own pillow from Jaskier to place beneath his hips. Once he was settled, he tried not to think about how vulnerable the position made him. He could stop Jaskier at any time. Jaskier always stopped when Geralt actually meant it. 

Jaskier didn’t waste any time once Geralt was situated. He knelt between Geralt’s legs and pressed his lips between Geralt’s cheeks. 

All of the breath in Geralt’s lungs rushed out as Jaskier licked gently at his hole. He wasn’t sure whether the string of curses in his head made it past his lips, but his entire body shuddered in pleasure.

“You like that.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement of fact. Jaskier did it again and received a similar reaction. “You really like that.” He sounded pleased.

Geralt had half a mind to retort sharply, but Jaskier’s mouth was on him again, and he lost his train of thought. Geralt couldn’t remember the last time a partner had put their mouth on him like this, but it was definitely worth the wait. Jaskier’s tongue was a revelation.

Thoughts of Valdo’s lacking personality, Yennefer’s absence, and his own frustrations faded as Jaskier teased him with only his tongue. His spine tingled as Jaskier circled around his rim, and his gut tightened as he pressed just enough to ease past the muscle slightly. 

Geralt’s breathing was ragged as Jaskier began to press in and out of him. He was a bit embarrassed by the breathy grunts he was making as his hips moved of their own volition to get some friction against his aching cock. 

“You know you could’ve just told me you needed a hand with this,” Jaskier said, pulling back a moment and replacing his mouth with a single finger. 

Geralt bit his lip as Jaskier’s callused finger pressed into him slowly. 

“I was doing fine,” Geralt gritted out as Jaskier pressed just a little further, creating a very dull but delightful burn. 

“Like hell you were. You nearly chewed my head off over a cup.”

Geralt growled. 

“Or were you jealous of Valdo?” Jaskier asked, sounding far too smug for Geralt’s liking.

“Only an idiot would be jealous of that fool.”

“So you think I’m an idiot!”

Geralt snorted.

“I mean…”

“You’re more talented than he’ll ever be. I don’t see why you’d be jealous of him, especially when you chose this lifestyle rather than the one he has.” Geralt gripped the sheets as Jaskier pressed deeper.

“You’re very kind, but it wasn’t so much a choice as...never mind. We shouldn’t be talking about this while I have my finger in your ass.”

“No, finish. Not so much a choice.”

Jaskier didn’t answer, instead crooking his finger to gently massage Geralt’s prostate. It had its intended effect, and Geralt groaned as the pleasure rolled through him. 

“See, much better than dreary conversation. Now, let’s get you ready for the main event, shall we?” Jaskier said, his voice taking on the tone he got when he was particularly excited about a new lyric.

“Mm.”

“Gods, your back muscles are a thing of beauty,” Jaskier praised, running his free hand down Geralt’s spine as he slowly fucked him with his finger. 

Geralt grunted, trying not to show how that touch made him melt. He gripped the sheets more tightly as he shifted his hips to give Jaskier better access. He tried to ignore the way that Jaskier’s touch was exactly what he needed.

Jaskier didn’t let Geralt’s hesitant responses deter him as he leaned back in and continued to coax Geralt to relax with licks and kisses that left his whole body vibrating. 

Geralt ground his hips into the pillow beneath him, seeking out more as Jaskier buried his tongue in him as deeply as it would go. Geralt couldn’t stop the desperate grunts as Jaskier began to use his fingers as well, opening him slowly and thoroughly. 

Jaskier released him once he had Geralt groaning loudly each time he pressed into him. He patted Geralt’s ass gently before leaning across the bed to grab the box from the nightstand and bring it over to them. 

“Relax for me,” Jaskier asked, resting his palm on the small of Geralt’s back. 

Geralt consciously forced himself to relax. 

“Gods, you’re so good,” Jaskier mumbled, more to the air than to Geralt himself. Sometimes the man just needed to voice his thoughts, though the praise wasn’t unwelcome.

Geralt waited for Jaskier to make his move, but it didn’t come immediately. Glancing over his shoulder, Geralt saw him carefully inspecting the plug he’d created. It was actually quite arousing to watch him study his handiwork and ensure its quality. Geralt wasn’t sure why it turned him on more than the idea of the plug going inside him, but he’d always appreciated Jaskier’s many skills. 

“So, there are different schools of thought on this, my dear,” Jaskier said, finally looking up from the ginger root and making eye contact with Geralt. “With or without lube. Some say lube dulls the effects, and others well, the rather obvious nothing goes in without a little help.”

Geralt grunted.

“I did without, but I’m not about to shov—”

“I’ll let you know if it’s a problem.”

“Right then...I know you want pain, but let me know if anything is...off.”

“Mm.”

Jaskier rubbed the small of his back several times before kneading his ass. By the time Geralt felt the tip of the ginger against his ass, he was completely pliant. The plug itself wasn’t much wider than Jaskier’s finger and it eased in without much trouble. In fact, Jaskier had so little trouble pressing it into Geralt, Geralt wondered if he hadn’t just switched it out for a regular plug because he didn’t feel anything particularly shocking.

“Just stay like that for me,” Jaskier said, letting go of the plug and beginning to massage Geralt’s back slowly. “Just relax for me.” 

Geralt forced himself to remain still and relaxed as Jaskier worked a few of the knots out of his back. It felt good, and Geralt was just beginning to think this was a ploy to just massage some of the anger out of him when he began to feel a warming sensation in his ass.

“You’re feeling it,” Jaskier said knowingly as he continued to work his way up Geralt’s back. “Don’t shift or squeeze yet. Let it take effect first.”

Geralt grunted. Jaskier was treating him like a delicate flower as though a warm bum was something to write home about. Still, Geralt followed his command for reasons he wasn’t willing to dive into.

The sensation continued to build, at first slowly but then rapidly. Geralt grunted and shifted as the warmth became a burn.

“There it is.” 

Geralt could hear the smile in Jaskier’s voice. 

For his part, Jaskier didn’t stop touching Geralt’s back. He rubbed and massaged his aching muscles as the burn grew into something that could not be ignored.

Geralt felt sweat break out on his skin as his body tried to make sense of the sudden discomfort. His gut twisted in a mixture of pain and pleasure as he forced himself to remain completely still, and his mouth went dry as he tried to take a shuddering breath.

“Just another minute, and we’ll give you a pleasant distraction.”

Geralt’s whole body was rather overwhelmed at the moment. His ass was now thoroughly engulfed in the burn, his muscles were cramping with the effort to remain still, and his cock was aching and leaking all over his pillow. He blinked trying to make sense of all of the dueling sensations, but no amount of focus and training had prepared him for this.

“Right, let’s get you on your back before you get yourself overwhelmed,” Jaskier said, sounding thoroughly pleased with himself. “I must say, I was in tears by now when I did this.” He said it as he carefully guided Geralt over onto his back.

The movement was enough to shift the plug, and another wave of heat engulfed him. Geralt couldn’t hold back the rough groan as he instinctively clenched around the intrusion. He didn’t recognize the sound that was forced out of his lungs as his entire body seized with the fire in his core.

“You clenched,” Jaskier tsked, shaking his head. His gentle touch returned though, running over Geralt’s chest and down over his belly before wrapping around his leaking cock. “Is this the kind of pain you had in mind?”

Geralt grunted. 

“Are you enjoying yourself?” Jaskier asked, his smile reminiscent of the cat who got the cream. 

“Are you?” Geralt retorted, wrapping his own hands around Jaskier’s hips and bringing their cocks flush together.

Jaskier let out a shuddering moan and Geralt rolled his hips against his. 

“I am, indeed. Honestly, surprised by how erotic it is to watch you slowly losing control,” Jaskier admitted, rocking back against Geralt as well.

“Mm.”

“Don’t be shy. I can see it in your eyes. Just wondering if it will continue to get worse.”

“Will it?”

“And what would the fun in me telling you be?” Jaskier asked, leaning down to capture Geralt’s lips in a slow kiss.

Geralt was already breathless, but Jaskier’s lips stole his reason as well, leaving him at the mercy of sensation. Geralt cursed as Jaskier pulled back just enough to reach for the lube. His whole body throbbed as Jaskier reached behind himself and began to work a couple fingers in and out of his ass.

Without meaning to, Geralt squeezed down at the beauty of Jaskier fucking himself with his fingers. His soft belly stretched as he twisted to reach, and his thighs flexed as he bounced gently. It was too much, and Geralt’s ass suffered for it when he bore down on the ginger. Even the flames didn’t dampen the eroticism of Jaskier taking a moment to find his own prostate and pleasure himself above Geralt.

“Can I ride you?” Jaskier asked as he removed his fingers. He’d clearly used too much lube because of his hurry, and his index and middle finger dripped onto his thigh.

Geralt groaned at the filthy sight of him, using his hands to guide Jaskier into position rather than saying anything. He was feeling far too much to form words, and Jaskier seemed to understand as he let himself be manhandled. He even wrapped his drenched fingers around Geralt’s cock and gave it a few firm strokes before reaching for a condom and rolling it onto Geralt.

Before he lowered himself onto Geralt, Jaskier braced a hand on his chest and drew his attention. “This is going to make it more intense. You’re going to squeeze even if you try not to.”

“Don’t care. Ride me,” Geralt growled, needing too much to care about the consequences.

Jaskier didn’t try to talk him out of it, which Geralt would have appreciated if he’d been in any state to really contemplate it. 

Instead, he gripped Jaskier’s hips tightly and guided him down onto his aching cock. Jaskier took him easily, sinking down slowly and fitting Geralt like a glove. He hadn’t been lying; Geralt clenched his cheeks as he eased up to meet Jaskier. 

Geralt gasped as a mixture of pleasure and pain rolled through him so forcefully that he shook with it. 

Jaskier’s own gasp joined his as Geralt’s cock shifted deeper. “That’s it. You’re liking it,” Jaskier praised, beginning to roll his hips to take Geralt deeply without forcing Geralt to move.

Once Jaskier got moving, Geralt was lost. He wasn’t sure where the burning pain in his core ended and the pleasure began, but it created the perfect mix. Jaskier’s body squeezed him on each thrust, and Geralt was helpless not to mimic it on the plug within him, building the pain higher and higher.

“Sweet Melitele, you’re cock is fantastic,” Jaskier panted above him, riding him hard and fast. 

Geralt watched a bead of sweat travel down Jaskier’s temple and cheek before sliding down his throat. It only made him thrust up into Jaskier faster and leave his ass clenching harder.

It was getting hard to breathe, and every nerve ending felt like it was ablaze as Geralt’s vision began to tunnel. 

“That’s it. You’re right there,” Jaskier encouraged him, taking one of Geralt’s hands and bringing it to his chest. It was grounding, keeping Geralt from completely losing himself in the heady mix of sensations.

Geralt didn’t have any way to warn Jaskier he was right on the edge, but Jaskier seemed to know anyway, and he squeezed down on Geralt as he seated himself fully, grinding down on him. Geralt roared as his orgasm cut through him in a powerful wave that tightened every muscle in his body. The constant burn only seemed to prolong it as Geralt felt wave after wave of pleasure.

Jaskier didn’t stop either. He continued to ride Geralt hard through his orgasm, chasing his own with abandon. 

Geralt blinked up at him as he began to regain his wits, but one look at Jaskier was enough to leave him breathless again. His sweaty hair was wild, and his skin had the most beautiful flush as he rose and fell on Geralt’s spent dick. His hips moved with such fluid grace, and Geralt had to wrap his hands around them just to feel them, and his belly rolled with his movements beautifully.

Jaskier took one of Geralt’s hands and brought it to the base of his belly, just above his straining cock, and Geralt groaned as he felt the press of his own cock—still not losing its firmness. Jaskier made the most beautiful sounds as he squeezed Geralt’s hand and kept it right there. 

Geralt could still feel the agonizing burn, but watching Jaskier sob above him as he searched for his own completion was too mesmerizing to ignore. 

“Fuck...Geralt...please touch me,” Jaskier begged, gripping his own thigh in frustration.

Geralt didn’t hesitate to bring his hand down and wrap it around Jaskier’s leaking cock. He stroked him in time with Jaskier’s movements, and it didn’t take long at all before Jaskier began to shudder above him, unable to control his own release.

Jaskier came all over Geralt’s belly and fist, crying out as his body clenched down on him.

Geralt wasn’t expecting it to wring another orgasm out of him, but the shock of it caused him to fall into his own pleasure as well.

Jaskier made a pained sound as he slumped forward and fell against Geralt’s chest. The throb in Geralt’s ass hadn’t lessened significantly, but he caught Jaskier with ease. He gently folded him into his arms despite his own body still firing on all cylinders. 

“Sorry...I wasn’t expecting to actually come...I kinda pushed it last night and...sorry, you don’t want to hear about…”

“Jaskier, shut up,” Geralt grumbled, pulling him close and pressing a kiss to his sweaty temple. He wanted to envelop him, keep him safe, bring him nothing but pleasure.

“I’m fine, really. Let me finish with you before you start mother-henning.”

Geralt grunted but it quickly became a moan as he became aware of his own body again. Geralt gripped the sheet with cramping fingers as Jaskier eased the ginger from between his cheeks. His breath was ragged as he tried not to clench down on it, but even his resolve had crumbled after Jaskier’s treatment. His brain was a foggy mixture of pain and pleasure, and while he knew he’d come twice, he wasn’t entirely sure which had put him over the edge either time. Though Jaskier himself was entirely responsible either way.

Jaskier’s fingers spread him wide, and Geralt felt the bulbous finger of ginger pull free. He would’ve been embarrassed that Jaskier had to help him, but his mind was too clouded to care. 

“Gods you are needy,” Jaskier said. His words were practically dripping with affection. Still, it didn’t bother Geralt.

Jaskier pressed a kiss to Geralt’s spine, easing down behind him and wrapping his arm around Geralt’s belly. 

“How are you feeling?”

“You didn’t lie about still feeling it afterward.” Geralt shifted slightly, but that only seemed to fan the flames.

“It’ll ease off slowly.”

“Don’t mind it,” Geralt said, letting the lingering discomfort wash over him. 

Jaskier’s arm was soothing, and the press of his chest to Geralt’s back lulled him into a light doze. He wasn’t sure how long he slept, but Jaskier was still wrapped around him when he surfaced again.

“I forgot you have a soft snore,” Jaskier said, once again amused by Geralt.

“Probably because it’s hard to hear over yours.”

“Slander!”

Geralt snorted.

“I guess I should probably get out of your hair. The coffee has definitely been on the burner too long, and weekend pancake breakfast is fast becoming pancake brunch,” Jaskier rambled, though he didn’t remove his hand from where it had become clasped with Geralt’s own.

“Not hungry.”

“You sure? You love pancake breakfast.”

“Because it’s the only time you cook.”

“True enough. What do you want then?”

“To stay like this,” Geralt admitted. He immediately felt some of the tension return as he admitted what he wanted, but Jaskier sagged against him.

“Oh, well, I can definitely go for that.” He snuggled closer, pressing a soft kiss to the bruise he’d left on Geralt’s neck. “Was it...did you…”

“It was good...you were good.”

Geralt could feel Jaskier’s smile against his skin. “You know, if you ever need a helping hand…”

“I’ll be sure to smash another coffee mug.”

“Yeah that, or you could just ask like a normal person.”

Geralt grunted.

“Fine, but don’t complain when I replace our broken mugs with fun ones.”

“Mm.” He didn’t mention that Jaskier had already replaced most of Geralt’s mugs when he moved in. It didn’t matter. Jaskier could do as he pleased, and Geralt would let him. He always did.

They were both just beginning to doze again when Jaskier’s phone began to ring. He groaned as he dragged himself out of bed.

Geralt watched him go, knowing this would be the end of it. His gut twisted in a pain that had nothing to do with the lingering effects of the ginger. He bit his lip, considering asking Jaskier to stay. However, Jaskier was out the door and across the hall before he could muster the words.

“Valdo, this is a surprise...staying another night...dinner?” 

Geralt rolled over, facing away from the door. He closed his eyes as focused on the last threads of pain, trying to ground himself and distract from Jaskier’s conversation.

It must have worked because he wasn’t expecting it when Jaskier slid back into bed behind him, wrapping him in his arms again.

“Don’t you have plans?” Geralt asked.

“I do.”

“Shouldn’t you be getting ready for them then?”

“What do I have to get ready for when we’re both already naked and in bed?” Jaskier retorted, sounding immensely pleased.

“What about Valdo’s extra night?”

“I told him I was busy.”

“Busy.”

“Yeah. I promised you pancakes for whatever meal we actually get to today, and there’s a case of beer in the fridge that isn’t going to drink itself.”

Geralt smiled. “Just like always.”

“Absolutely.”

“You don’t need to stay. I won’t be hurt if you choose him—”

Jaskier made an indelicate sound, rolling Geralt onto his back and pinning him to the bed. “You idiot, it’s always been you. This lifestyle…” he waved his arm around and motioned to their apartment, “...wasn’t a choice because a penthouse and a chauffeur are nothing without you there too. It’ll always be you even if I’m destined to live across the hall from you in a shitty apartment until the end of time. This is where I want to be.”

Geralt bit his lip. “I…”

“Like having me here too. It’s okay. Don’t strain yourself.” There was a bitterness in Jaskier’s words, but they were still filled with the affection Geralt had come to crave.

“I don’t know if this room can really fit both of our things…”

Jaskier gave him a completely besotted look. “We could always upgrade.”

“No penthouse.”

“A small one?”

Geralt grumbled, but he pulled Jaskier to him and rolled until they were on their sides facing each other. He leaned in and pressed his lips to Jaskier’s. He'd let Jaskier have this too. 


End file.
